Cindy Kirk - Romancing The Nanny

“You squeezed these?”

She laughed—a pleasant laugh that reminded Dan of the tinkle of bells. “With my own two hands.”

Dan didn’t need to ask if she’d made the cookies. They were too perfect not to be hers.

“Snickerdoodle.” He filched one from the center of the plate. “My favorite.”

“I think I knew that,” Amy said with a teasing smile.

Dan returned her smile and decided he’d been foolish to worry. Amy was happy in his household. She wasn’t going anywhere.

She glanced at the paper. “Are you looking at the classifieds?”

Dan handed her the section and returned his attention to the stock quotes. They drank lemonade, ate cookies and read in comfortable silence. Dan never felt pressured to make small talk with Amy. If there was something to discuss, it was brought up. Otherwise, it was okay to just relax.

Dan wasn’t sure when he first became aware that Amy was doing more than just reading the Want ads. Maybe it was when he noticed the pen. Every so often she’d make a quick mark on the page.

What was she doing?

He could ask but he already felt like he’d gone over the line at dinner and didn’t want to overstep again. Amy was a private person and Dan had always subscribed to the notion that if she wanted him to know something, she’d tell him.

“Jake and I stopped for a drink after work.” Dan hoped if he started talking, so would she. “You’ll never guess who I saw.”

Amy lowered the paper to her lap. “Who?”

“Bree Northcott.” Dan wasn’t sure why he’d brought the woman up, other than she’d been one of the few women he’d dated Amy had seemed to genuinely like. “She was the blonde who—”

“I remember Bree,” Amy said. “And Kellycat and Todd.”

Dan paused. “Who?”

Amy giggled. “Her cats. A Scottish Fold and an Abyssinian.”

The words meant nothing to him. He only remembered one was furry and the other short-haired.

“Those Scottish Folds are so beautiful.” An almost dreamy lilt filled Amy’s voice and her lips curved upward. “But so hard to find.”

“I don’t know anything about cats.”

Amy’s smile vanished. “That’s because you don’t like them.”

“You’re right,” Dan admitted. When he’d been small, his neighbor’s Siamese had gone ballistic when he’d tried to pick it up. Ever since that day, Dan had given all felines a wide berth. “I don’t like them. And I’d certainly never want one, let alone two, in my house. Thankfully Tess and I agreed on that.”

Amy’s expression didn’t waver but her gaze shifted back to the paper.

He had the feeling he’d missed something. A sudden thought struck him.

“Emma hasn’t mentioned wanting a kitten, has she?” Though Dan would give his daughter the sun and moon if he could, he drew the line at a cat.

“Not to me.” Amy’s gaze remained fixed on the paper.

Dan heaved a sigh of relief. “Good.”

“She’d never ask because she knows how you feel about them,” Amy added.

Though she’d made the comment matter-of-factly, Dan could have sworn he heard an underlying hint of reproach. He frowned. “Are you saying Emma is afraid to talk to me?”

“Not afraid,” Amy said. “But—”

A loud boom of thunder split the air and Amy jumped. The newspaper on her lap went flying and the napkins on the tray flew off in a gust of wind.

Dan met Amy’s gaze and the concern in her eyes mirrored his own. “Emma.”

His daughter was deathly afraid of storms and the thunder had been loud enough to wake the dead, let alone a light sleeper.

“You go,” Amy said. “I’ll stay and pick up.”

The wind began to blow in earnest, ruffling the newspapers he held in his hands and threatening to topple the empty lemonade glasses.

“No,” Dan said. “She’ll want you, not me.”

Though it pained him to say so, in this instance it was the truth. During thunderstorms, it was always Amy who Emma clung to, not him.

Amy nodded and touched his arm. “Thanks.”

Another loud clap of thunder rent the air and Amy hurried off before he could ask why she was thanking him. After the door slammed shut, a few drops of rain plopped on the sidewalk and Dan didn’t have time to think. He’d lived in the Midwest long enough to know he needed to hurry. He rounded up the paper, grabbed the plate of cookies and empty glasses and headed inside.

He’d barely made it through the door when the rain began in earnest, the wind spraying droplets of water across the floor of the porch.

By the time Dan reached the kitchen, sheets of rain pelted the windows. He placed the cookies and glasses on the counter and dropped the wad of papers onto the table. The classifieds that Amy had been reading somehow ended up on top.

Though Dan told himself it was none of his business, he found his gaze drawn to the circled items.

An icy chill traveled up his spine. Real estate in the suburbs? The price range seemed a little out of her league, but it might be manageable, depending on the size of the down payment or if there were two incomes.

Steven.

Had she lied when she’d said the two of them were just friends? In his heart he didn’t think so. But she’d mentioned more than once how much she longed for a house of her own.

His fingers tightened around the paper. He couldn’t imagine this home without Amy. If she left, Emma would be devastated. But Amy wouldn’t leave, he reminded himself, because he was committed to doing whatever it took to make her stay. He’d learned long ago that most things could be had, for a price. He just had to find out what it would take to keep Amy in his household.

Amy leaned back in the rocker and sighed with contentment. Though she knew many would say Emma was too big or too old to be rocked, Amy enjoyed being close to the little girl.

Emma had run into her arms when she’d entered the bedroom. Amy had learned long ago she couldn’t talk Emma out of her fear; what reassured and calmed her most was to be held. So, she’d taken a seat in the wooden rocker and Emma had crawled onto her lap. For a long moment Amy had just held her close. Once Emma’s tears had stopped, Amy had started to sing. Her voice hadn’t been good enough to make Swing Choir in high school but Emma didn’t complain. These songs from past and present Broadway musicals were Emma’s lullabies.

Now Emma slept, her cheeks still showing remnants of the tears that had flowed so freely only minutes before. Amy stroked the little girl’s hair and wondered if Tess had ever rocked Emma to sleep and marveled at this perfect child she’d created. Amy liked to think so. She let her mind drift back to the time she’d first met Tess.

She remembered her vividly—the wispy blond hair, the pretty elfin features and the immense blue eyes. Tess had been a petite dynamo who could charm the socks off a complete stranger and bring her handsome husband to his knees with a single smile.

Tess had been three months from delivering her second baby when Amy had first come to live in the Major household. Even pregnant Tess had been cute and trendy, a fashionista on the cutting edge of the latest styles.

Emma had been almost three, a shy, sensitive child who reminded Amy more of herself than of her gregarious parents. Shortly after Amy had arrived Tess had confided that she found it hard to understand how a child of hers could have so many fears.

Perhaps because she’d been plagued with those same insecurities, Amy had felt a kinship with Emma. They’d bonded immediately, which was good considering Tess hadn’t been around much.

Tess had been launching a new line and all her time and attention had been focused on work. When Amy had casually asked Dan if Tess planned to keep up this pace after the baby was born, he’d just laughed and said Tess wasn’t happy unless she was going ninety miles an hour.